Behind the Mirror

For years, I believed I was simply struggling to finish my stories.

I would sit in front of my computer, rewriting scenes over and over again. I questioned chapter order, character motivations, and even whether the stories deserved to be told at all. The biggest question that haunted me was one I couldn’t answer:

When does this story take place?

It sounds like such a simple detail.

A time period.
A date.
A clock on a wall.

But time is never just time.

As I’ve been rebuilding Far From Oz, Falling From Neverland, and Free From the Looking Glass, I’ve discovered that some of the smallest details carry the greatest weight. The ticking of a clock. The age of a character. A memory that doesn’t quite line up. The passing of minutes. These aren’t background details—they’re part of the story’s language.

Years ago, I didn’t have those answers.

I tried to force them.

The harder I pushed, the more incomplete the stories felt.

Only recently, through conversations with others, documentaries I happened to watch, and experiences I couldn’t have predicted, those missing pieces began to reveal themselves. Suddenly, details that once seemed insignificant connected the three stories together in ways I never imagined.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t writing enough.

It wasn’t that I lacked creativity.

The story simply wasn’t finished teaching me what it needed to become.

Looking back, I realize how discouraged I had become because my books weren’t gaining momentum. I questioned whether I should keep going at all.

Now I see something different.

Perhaps the lack of movement wasn’t failure.

Perhaps it was protection.

Maybe these stories weren’t meant to be released in the form they were in. Maybe they needed time to grow, just as I did. Maybe the missing details weren’t missing because I overlooked them—they simply hadn’t found me yet.

As writers, we often believe we control every word on the page.

But sometimes the story has its own timetable.

Sometimes life has to happen first.

Sometimes we have to meet people, experience loss, ask better questions, or learn to see the world differently before we can write the ending that was always waiting for us.

Today, I look at these stories with fresh eyes.

The clock has meaning.

The timeline has purpose.

The tiny details I once ignored have become the threads that bind three separate tales into one greater narrative.

Time didn’t delay my stories.

Time completed them.

Whether you call it coincidence, destiny, divine timing, or simply growth, I’ve learned that not every unfinished project is abandoned. Some are simply waiting for the right season.

Maybe that’s true for more than just stories.

Maybe it’s true for us, too.

Every ending leaves an echo

Stories don’t always begin with answers. Sometimes they begin with a question we’re finally ready to ask.